boundless pride and a beaming smile that Mr. Darcy entered the grandly embellished foyer of Melcourt Hall with his radiant bride on his arm.
A mild hush fell over the room as nearly every eye in the place fell on the couple, both of them well aware of the scrutiny. Darcy paused theatrically, delighting in the attention for indubitably the only occasion in memory and probably the last. The caesura spanned mere seconds, but the desired effect was obtained. Within minutes the word raced through the manor that the Darcys had arrived.
Sir Cole welcomed the young couple effusively, Lizzy charming him instantly. Lord and Lady Matlock hovered nearby and greeted Lizzy warmly, further causing a stir. If the redoubtable Matlocks so approved of the new Mrs. Darcy, then the rumors of her inappropriateness that had spread throughout the region surely were ungrounded.
“Elizabeth dear, you are breathtaking,” Lady Matlock pronounced with a kiss to Lizzy’s cheek. “Nephew, allow me the honor of introducing Mrs. Darcy to the Vernors. Mr. Vernor, Mrs. Vernor, my niece Mrs. Darcy.”
“Mrs. Darcy, it is a delight to see you again,” Mr. Vernor bowed. “I do trust your first month at Pemberley has been pleasant?”
“Immensely so, Mr. Vernor, thank you for inquiring. Mrs. Vernor, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Darcy had greeted Gerald with enthusiasm and turned to his wife. “My dear, this is Gerald Vernor, an old friend, although he did tergiversate and attend Oxford. Mr. Vernor, my wife, Elizabeth Darcy.”
“Mrs. Darcy, it is a joy to meet the woman who captured my wayward friend’s heart.” Lizzy laughed and curtseyed, sensing immediately the same open amiability in the son as in the father. He lightly touched his wife’s elbow, “My wife Harriet Vernor.”
Harriet Vernor was a tall woman, slim but slightly mannish in her build, with an unattractive horsy face but yet startling green eyes. As soon as she spoke, however, her homeliness faded. Her voice was dulcet and rich, and she spoke with an easy humor and pithy wit. Lizzy liked her instantly, and the two fell into an effortless conversation as the group moved into the main hall.
The following forty-five or so minutes were expended in a flurry of introductions, as seemingly the entire population of Derbyshire drifted toward the Darcys. The Matlocks remained near, lending nonverbal support to their niece, while Darcy, although remarkably more extroverted than usual, nonetheless cut an imposing figure. Few were brave enough to cross the formidable Mr. Darcy.
In general, the inhabitants were gracious and welcoming, willing, apparently, to delay a hasty judgment regarding the new Mrs. Darcy. The thinly veiled insults and condescending glances were rare and met with the glare and particular set to the jaw displaying annoyance from Mr. Darcy, which none wanted directed their way. Harriet amused Lizzy with a running acerbic commentary whispered in her ear. By the time the strains from the orchestra commenced, Lizzy’s mind was a muddle of names. Therefore, she was ecstatic to have her handsome husband claim her for the first set. She had promised Lord Matlock the second set and Mr. Vernor the third, but the remainder were all for Darcy.
The orchestra chose a moderate minuet to warm up the crowd, followed by a lively cotillion. Lizzy and Darcy had a marvelous time. The opportunity to completely erase the unpleasant aspects attached to the memory of their disastrous encounter at the Netherfield Ball was crucial. Neither of them could now deny the attraction they had felt even then, nor did they wish to. Yet for months afterwards Darcy had tried to blot her from his mind, and Lizzy had refused to even entertain the notion of enchantment with Mr. Darcy.
Tonight they allowed their love and mutual enthrallment to wash over them. Lizzy noted that indeed Darcy
“I love this dance,” he began.
Lizzy smiled. “Indeed, most invigorating.”
“So many couples.”
“It is an accommodating room.”
“Pemberley’s ballroom is larger, however.”
“Do you intend to talk all through the dance, Mr. Darcy?”
“I have been advised it is proper etiquette to do so… Do you not agree, Mrs. Darcy?”
“Only if one’s partner is worth conversing with.”
“I see… am I classified as worthy or unworthy?”
“I believe I need more evidence to judge… pray continue, Mr. Darcy.”
On and on it went, Darcy never losing his train of inane babble, even when parted for a turn with the next lady in line. Lizzy watched him from the corner of her eye, frequently making contact with his gaze, as they moved through the set. He spoke little to anyone else, except for one young woman approximately Lizzy’s age whom he greeted with a soft smile. She, oddly, was a deep shade of pink and decidedly uncomfortable, puzzling Darcy.
“Who is the young lady in yellow?” Lizzy asked when again engaged with her husband.
“Miss Bertha Vernor, Gerald’s sister,” he replied softly with an edge of bafflement in his voice.
“You unnerved her, it appeared.”
“I cannot imagine how… I have known her all her life… she is like a sister to me.”
Lizzy laughed, “My love, you are impossibly obtuse!”
“I beg your pardon, Madame!”
“I can almost guarantee she does not see you as a brother.” Darcy’s confusion increased for a full minute before he finally grasped her implication, after which he blushed profusely, covering his discomfiture with the Darcy scowl. The dance ended with Lizzy’s tinkling laugh as she took his arm and steered him to the bowl of wassail.
The next sets were the shorter quadrilles. Lizzy danced the initial two parts with Lord Matlock while Darcy squired his aunt. The Earl made few attempts at conversation, the fast pace and intricate steps of the dance demanding all his attention. Lady Matlock apparently was quite diverting, as Lizzy could see her husband struggling to remain reserved and focused. Lizzy danced the middle parts with Mr. Gerald Vernor, Darcy partnering Mrs. Vernor. Lizzy and Darcy finished the set together.
The dining hall was lavishly decorated, the long tables arranged in rows facing toward the door with the main table slightly elevated lengthwise before the far wall. The Darcys were seated at the main table with Sir Cole, the Matlocks, the Vernors, Sir Arthur Levings of Parwich Hall, Lord and Lady Newburgh of Hassop Hall, Sir James and Lady Harpur of Calke Abbey, and numerous others whom Lizzy had not yet met.
Lizzy sat diagonally across from her husband and between Lady Harpur and a man introduced to her as the Marquis of Orman. Lord Orman was a handsome man perhaps a year or two older than Darcy, unmarried and charming. Lady Harpur said little, whether from shyness or lack of interest in her dinner companions Lizzy could not discern. Darcy was flanked by Sir James Harpur and Mrs. Mary Vernor. Within earshot sat Lord and Lady Matlock and the remaining Vernors.
Dinner was spectacular. Conversation and laughter flowed. Lord Orman was engaging, thankfully for Lizzy, as Lady Harpur said barely two words. Darcy spoke primarily with Sir James and Mr. Vernor, joining in with Lizzy and Lord Orman on occasion.
“Mrs. Darcy,” Lord Orman said, “I understand you are from Hertfordshire?”
“Yes, My Lord, you have heard correctly. Are you familiar with the region?”
“Not much, I confess. I have traveled through on my way to London; however, I have not tarried in the area. Do you miss your home?”
Lizzy smiled. “I miss my family somewhat, but Pemberley and Derbyshire are my home.”
“Of course. Forgive me, Mrs. Darcy, I meant no offense.”
“None taken.”
“Did you leave a large family behind?”
“Four sisters and my parents, as well as cousins. Fortunately, Meryton is not a great distance, and it is the lot of us women eventually to leave our parents for our new families. I am content.” Lizzy glanced at Darcy, who was apparently absorbed in his plate, but she noted the tiny crease between his brows and well knew what it signified.
“Of course.” Lord Orman continued. “Still, it must be difficult to leave what you have always known for the
